


...And the Pursuit of Happiness

by heavvymetalqueen



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Alcoholism, Blood, Disguise, Functional Nudity, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, M/M, Mentions of Kaz, Mission Fic, Philanthropy, Sharing Body Heat, Shower Sex, Sleepy Cuddles, and dogs, codec banter, dubious consent and child abuse mentions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-17 16:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9332954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavvymetalqueen/pseuds/heavvymetalqueen
Summary: If he were a smarter man, a less selfish man, he’d leave the safehouse before they woke up.





	1. Somewhere in Alaska, February 2005, 13:34pm

**Author's Note:**

> My entry for Snot Week 2017! Prompt for this day was "New Game"

The first thing Solid Snake noticed as he woke up was that he was actually _waking up_. To be brutally honest, several times during the past day he’d been unsure this was going to happen again - and if he deserved to wake up at all.

And yet here he was, waking up, still alive. Who knew for how long, but relentlessly, stubbornly _alive_.

The second thing he noticed, as he took a deep breath, was that literally every muscle in his body hurt. A lot. There were pretty good reasons he was retired, and one of them was because he was too damned old to be fighting giant robots anymore. This was gonna take a while and a lot of painkillers.

The third thing he noticed, extremely late, was that he was surrounded on both sides by two warm, heavy, snoring bodies. On his left, Meryl’s fantastic breasts pressed into his arm. On his right, Otacon’s sparse stubble tickling his bare shoulder. Both were clumsily clinging to his tanktop in their sleep and he felt a surge of protectiveness he hadn’t felt in a long time for anybody but his dogs.

Oh, right. The dogs. He had to go get them now that....

...that Master couldn’t look after them anymore.

On account of being dead.

Just another tick in the neverending list of people that had gotten killed for giving a shit about him.

If he were a smarter man, a less selfish man, he’d leave the safehouse before they woke up. Get his dogs before Master’s daughter decided to rehome them, and disappear. It was for the best. For everybody involved. FOXDIE was going to get him soon enough anyway.

But he was so tired, and Meryl was really warm and soft, and Otacon was making very cute sleepy noises and chewing on his shirt.

He could wait a few days. Pretend he was just a normal guy with these unfairly good people holding him. They would get tired of him eventually, realise there wasn’t much under the super soldier aside from alcoholism and self-hatred.

Solid Snake, now just David, took a deep breath, slowly dozing off again in the warm nest of bodies.

All things considered, he’d had worse mornings.


	2. Undisclosed Alaskan Location, April 7th 2005, 10:05am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t know what she told you but I definitely do not need a fucking intervention.” He pointed at the bag. “And I do not need anybody’s _pity_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second chapter, the prompt for the day was "Surprise"!

The barking of the dogs dragged Snake out of his sleep, his hand already on his gun.

His head pounding with hangover, he crawled silently to the door, clicking off the safety.

Whoever was coming up to his porch was not trying to be subtle about it. Only one person. He could take them, even in this state.

As the steps stopped, Snake slammed the door open, and found a familiar bespectacled face over the barrel of the gun.

“Whoa! H-hey, It’s just me! Don’t shoot!”

“ _Otacon_?” he hissed, lowering the gun. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Otacon nervously pushed his glasses with the hand that wasn’t carrying a large grocery bag. “I...I heard. From Meryl, I mean.”

“Oh. Great.” He stuck the gun in the back of his sweatpants with a grunt. “I don’t know what she told you but I definitely do not need a fucking intervention.” He pointed at the bag. “And I do not need anybody’s _pity_.”

Otacon shuffled on his feet. “I...I understand, and I’m sorry but it’s not what I’m here for. I need to talk to you about something.”

Snake raised an eyebrow.

“I...brought beer?” he tried, lifting the bag that did, in fact, make a nice aluminium sound, and made Snake’s mouth water.

“Fine,” he sighed, stepping aside to let him in.

He didn’t need this right now. He just wanted to nurse his hangover and feel sorry for himself.

But Otacon looked so _earnest_ , and he _was_ out of beer.

He supposed he could listen to the nerd for a little bit.

***

“More Metal Gears?”

“I have more than enough reasons to think new Metal Gears will be popping up pretty soon.”

Snake groaned into his beer.

Otacon took a swig of his coke and slid a handful of papers over to him. “I met that woman that helped you on the mission. Romanenko.”

“Nastasha.”

“Yeah. Her...organization did a full sweep of Shadow Moses before all evidence was destroyed. And this is all they could find of my blueprints.”

Snake flipped through the design schematics of Rex, swallowing thickly over the lump in his throat. “I assume this isn’t all you made.”

“Not by a long shot. There were _terabytes_ of data that just...disappeared, as if they’d never been there. All my computers wiped clean.”

“So somebody took it after we left.”

“Yeah.” He sighed, and placed an old worn out folder on the table. “And besides....well, you know better than me Rex wasn’t the first Metal Gear. There were others, before. Rex was my work, but I had been working off templates as old as the _seventies_.”

Snake opened the folder and felt very much like throwing up at Metal Gear D’s insectoid shape looked back at him.

“And I’ve long accepted the fact that....the reason I was even in Shadow Moses was because my father worked on the previous ones, at least in part.” Snake looked up from the papers to notice Otacon’s eyes had gone cold and hard. Emmerich Senior was a taboo topic, got it. “ If Liquid could get his hands on old Metal Gear data...anybody else could. Especially now that my updated plans are probably being given to the highest nuclear power bidder.”

Snake closed the folder. “And?”

“And I’m going to stop it from happening again.”

“ _You_?” he blurted before he could stop himself, but Otacon didn’t seem fazed by it.

“I brought Rex into this world. I was an idiot, I closed my eyes and told myself I wasn’t doing something that could destroy millions of lives. I will fix my mistake.”

“Noble.”

“I don’t have much of a choice. The Romanenko woman made it pretty clear there’s plenty of people out there who’d be glad to lock me in their basement to draw them giant robots.”

Snake snorted. “Is that why you’re here? You looking for a bodyguard? I don’t think I have a good track record at keeping people alive, sorry.”

Otacon searched for his eyes and held his gaze. “I’m looking for a partner.”

Snake looked back down into his beer can. “Even worse at that, probably. I don't play well with others.”

“Neither did I,” said Otacon quietly, twisting the tab on his can. “I could never be in teams, could never figure out how other people _worked_. But I worked well with you. We saved the world together, Snake.”

Snake snorted.

“And I know we can do it again.”

“Maybe I don’t really care about saving the world anymore.”

Otacon sighed. “Of course. I can’t force you. But I’m going to do this whether you say yes or no. Just think about it. I could use your help, if you have nothing else to do.” He looked around at the stuffy cabin, the stink of stale sweat and week-old whiskey vomit lingering in the air. “And I don’t think you do.”

Snake chugged the last of his beer. “All right. Tell me what you’re planning. I can tell you can’t wait.”

Otacon’s face shone like a star as he smiled from ear to ear. “Glad you asked. Let me get my laptop hooked up and I’ll explain everything.”

Snake settled down into the couch with a fresh beer and prepared for an evening of Otacon gesticulating and pointing at a computer screen and talking about things like responsibility and saving the world. It beat getting drunk on his own, if nothing else.

To be honest, he was surprised himself when he blurted “alright, let’s do this” about three hours in, but the smile on Otacon’s face made him feel like he was making the right choice for once, like this was the first time he made a choice for himself.

***

The next three weeks were a whirlwind of computer stuff entirely too complex for him, heartache as he rehomed all dogs, and constant surprise at Otacon’s ingenuity. Or Otacon’s adaptability. Or Otacon’s enthusiasm for even the smallest thing.

And just Otacon, in general, who had weird interests but liked the same cheesy 80s movies as him, and had an anime girl as his desktop background but played Perfect Dark with him _ruthlessly_ , and who seemed to subsist entirely on coffee and instant ramen, and got teary eyed with every dog they gave away even though he’d known them only a few days. Otacon who fixed his shoddy internet with less than ten minutes of keyboard clicking, who never complained about sleeping on Snake’s old fucked up couch and stared at him through the window when Snake chopped wood in the yard. Otacon who had really pretty dark grey eyes behind the thick glasses.

As they packed the few things they needed to take with them and threw everything else in the yard to burn, Snake was surprised one last time by half a bottle of whiskey under the sink he had completely forgotten about.

He poured it on the pile of mushing gear, faded FOXHOUND t-shirts and soft-spined sci-fi paperbacks he could not remember if they belonged to him or Master Miller anymore. He lit it with his cigarette, and they watched it crackle and burn and melt the dirty spring snow.

“Ready to go?” asked Otacon as the flames died down.

“Yeah.”

And for once, he felt like he was really ready for something. Was this what having a purpose felt like?

Whatever it was, Snake liked it, and was actually looking forward being surprised some more.


	3. Private pier #356, Hudson Bay, August 9th 2007, 3:40am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snake opened his mouth but nothing seemed to come out. How hard did he hit his head? How long was he out? All he remembered was sinking, and then waking up as Otacon dragged him from the pier into their boat-turned-safehouse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is "thaw"!

****Snake knew cold, intimately.

He knew how to protect himself from it, how to deal with it.

He also knew when it was harmful.

And right now, even with the concussion, he knew the hypothermia was going to kill him way before the blood flowing down his face.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” grunted Otacon, trembling hands struggling with his slippery gear, pulling at his suit.

Snake opened his mouth but nothing seemed to come out. How hard did he hit his head? How long was he out? All he remembered was sinking, and then waking up as Otacon dragged him from the pier into their boat-turned-safehouse.

“Wait here.”

Snake heard himself make a low keening noise as Otacon left him on the floor. It was dark, he couldn’t see him, and all of a sudden he was scared as hell.

“I’m here, I’m here, just give me....”

He was so cold the long kitchen scissors felt warm against his skin as Otacon cut through the sneaking suit.

“No...”

“Dave, if I don’t get you out of this damn thing you’re gonna die in it. I’ll make you a new one.”

The not-so-much-state-of-the-art-anymore material ripped wetly, slapping Snake as it snapped apart. The towel Otacon rubbed on him felt like sandpaper.

“Shit, you’re freezing. Fuck this, I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“N-n-n-”

“Dave...”

Snake gripped Otacon’s wet jacket. “B-b-body h-h-heat.”

Otacon swallowed. “Ok. Just let me...”

He wriggled out of his weak grip and stomped away. A few seconds later two heavy blankets fell on him, ripped straight from their bunks.

Otacon was shirtless and shivering when he wrapped himself against him with one of the blankets. He shuffled out of his wet jeans, kicked off his shoes. His feet must have been freezing but they felt warm against Snake’s calves.

Otacon pulled the second blanket over them, covering them head to toe.

Skinny arms around his shoulders, his face pressed into a scrawny chest, Otacon’s heart fluttering under the ribs like a terrified bird. He tucked his hands against his stomach, wishing he could feel his fingers.

They both were shaking, but Snake knew it was going to be ok.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”

Snake shook his head. “Even staying here is dangerous.”

“We're not leaving until you stop trying to die on me.”

Snake closed his eyes. “Fair ‘nough.”

“Don’t fall asleep.”

Snake struggled his eyes open.

“Just...talk to me. Stay awake.”

Snake pressed his cold hands against Otacon’s warm stomach.

“Last time I did this it was with Master,” he mumbled.

“Miller?”

“Yeah. Snowmobile broke down a hundred miles from civilisation. In January.”

“Jesus.”

He was relieved he could feel his cheeks burn. “I was so hard the whole night,” he hissed.

Otacon’s hand touched his back gently “Did you ever...?”

“S-sometimes.” He shivered. His toes and fingers hurt. It was a good sign. “Never sober. Always regretted it in the morning.”

“He shouldn’t...he shouldn’t have taken advantage of you.”

Snake laughed, and it hurt his throat. “Him? _I_ was the one that took advantage.”

“He was your superior....”

“I wanted him so bad,” he whined. “Fuck, even as a recruit I’d have dropped to my knees and sucked him off in front of all of FOXHOUND if he’d asked me.”

Otacon’s breath hitched.

“He let me do things to him but I was never the one he wanted, I think. Just a good enough copy.”

“Oh.” Otacon hugged him tighter, his breath warm in his wet hair. “I guess we really aren’t so different in the end.”

And then he whispered something horrible, something so sickening and wrong Snake was at loss for words and all he could do was hold him. He wanted to say, _you didn’t deserve this, you were just a kid_ , but wasn’t he just a kid too? Both too young for the world they'd been thrust into.

“I wasn’t your fault,” he said, over and over as their bodies slowly warmed up and shed all the remaining walls between them. There were no more secrets now, they knew and shared their deepest shame in their little cocoon. They were truly equal now, real partners, and maybe all their years of pain were worth it, just for this night.

Snake didn’t know when he fell asleep, but when he woke it was almost morning and he was almost warm again, his head bandaged. Otacon was packing up their few things around the boat.

“We leavin’?” he slurred.

“Nastasha got us a car by the pier. Can you walk yet?”

Snake sat up, a little wobbly. “Probably.”

“Here.” The cup of coffee was steaming hot in his hands. Snake held it for a while, just enjoying the feeling of still having all his fingers.

Otacon passed by with a lump of wires and ruffled his hair. “Come on. Drink up.”

Snake drank his coffee. “Where are we going?”

“Anywhere but here.” Otacon stuffed a stack of hard drives into a duffel bag. “We need to lie extra low. There’s pictures of you on the tanker.”

Snake snorted. “Ocelot. Of course.”

“We got our ass handed to us out there,” he sighed. “It’s a miracle we got out alive, to be honest.”

Snake stared into the depths of his mug. “What if I didn’t.”

“Uh?”

“What if I didn’t make it out alive?”

“You are very much alive, although you’re not making any sense.”

Snake looked up, and felt a really sickening smile pull at his lips. He imagined right now he looked a lot like his....like Big Boss. “We do have a corpse with my DNA on ice though.”

Otacon blinked “You can’t be....” he trailed off. Frowned, pushed his glasses up. They had a crack on one lens. “Finish up and get dressed. I have a few codec calls to make.”

Two years ago, they would have refused to even consider something like this. But life on the run changes people. And what they had right now, this formless _thing_ of hope and purpose and small victories and devastating defeats, this little bead of warmth they shared was worth even the most disgusting of acts. It had to be.

He had to lean heavily on Otacon to take the few steps to their escape vehicle. He flopped heavily into the passenger seat, panting.

“Avoid...”

“Main routes, I know. Don’t worry. The GPS is already set to show roadblocks and police patrols. I got this. Just rest.”

Snake pulled his hoodie over his head and let his eyes slip closed, lulled by the rumble of the engine.

“Hal?” he said quietly as they left the Hudson, and their defeat, and Solid Snake behind them.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Otacon patted his arm. “Just rest.”

Snake slept, oddly safe even with the whole world nipping at their heels.


	4. Manhattan, April 30th 2009, 6:43am

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snake waited until they were waved past the last roadblock before speaking. “You okay?” he said lamely.
> 
> “No,” said Otacon. “Not really.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt is "recovery!"

Snake left the kid to his own conclusions, and limped through the clueless crowd. Three blocks to the alley where a nondescript black sedan was waiting, keys taped behind the left anterior wheel. Nobody seemed to notice the wet, bloody man squeezing himself into an old leather jacket, badly hiding his sneaking suit.

None so blind as those who will not see.

He changed quickly in the backseat, throwing his sneaking suit into the compartment under the seat. Jeans, t-shirt, hoodie, just normal., just another guy. He almost forgot the bandana. It was sticky with sweat.

He lit a cigarette and drove in reverse into the world.

Traffic was slow. Understandably, considering the giant metal gear crashed into Lower West Side and the ex-president dead in front of the Federal Hall. It took him the better part of an hour and an entire pack of cigarettes to get to the meeting point. and he let out the breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding for almost a day when he saw Otacon sitting on the bench at the bus stop.

Nobody else was around, so he just stopped and waited for him to notice him and climb into the car.

“Hey,” said Otacon. He sounded tired.

“Hey. Do you need to change?”

Otacon shook his head. “Grabbed a clean shirt from a thrift store. Couldn’t sit around all night with blood all over me.”

“Yeah.”

They drove off.

The NYPD was buzzing, but nobody gave more than half a second of attention to the two scruffy guys driving out of town.

Snake waited until they were waved past the last roadblock before speaking. “You okay?” he said lamely.

“No,” said Otacon. “Not really.”

“Sorry.”

Otacon took off his glasses, hooking them into the collar of his too big t-shirt to rub his eyes. “It’s not your fault. You did your best.”

“How many people did you get out?”

“Twenty. Couldn’t fit any more.”

“That’s good. You did great.”

“Yeah.”

News of the Big Shell crashing Manhattan hadn’t quite made it to Asbury Park when they drove in the parking garage of their safehouse apartment in the sleepy commuter area. Most people were probably still stuck in traffic and wondering why they couldn’t get to work.

The apartment was dark and quiet, with only the subtle static whirring of computer fans in the background. It felt as if hadn’t been in it for a year, not two days.

“Go take a shower,” he said, ruffling Otacon’s hair. There was blood in it. Not his blood, not quite.

Otacon gripped the hem of his shirt and didn’t let him move away. “You need one too.”

Snake smiled. “You’re right. Can’t have you use up all the hot water.”

The bathroom was cold, and it took forever for the creaky pipes to start spitting hot water. They threw their clothes into a paper bag, ready to be thrown in the incinerator downstairs whenever they got the time. Once naked, the mission was over. No more Otacon and no more Snake. Just Hal, pale and shaking, and Dave, bruised green and purple all over.

The stall was just big enough for both but it wasn’t the first time they “saved water”. They were used to it.

Hal tangled his long fingers into his hair. Dave kissed him, gently.

“I’m so happy you’re alive,” he whispered.

Hal swallowed thickly.

“Sorry. I’m selfish. But I’m happy you’re alive.”

“I feel so guilty,” breathed Hal into his mouth. “Because I’m happy to be alive, too.”

Dave held him tight, water running down their tired bodies, scorching off blood and dirt and exhaustion.

“I keep _thinking_ ,” whimpered Otacon, breath hitching with sobs. “What if, what if, what if I hadn’t been a coward, what if I'd told you the whole truth two years ago, what if, what if....”

“Hal...”

Hal pulled back to look into his eyes, water and tears trailing down his stubbled cheeks. “Please make me stop thinking. I’m going crazy.”

“That I can do.”

They’d long ran out of platitudes for each other. Knew too much, shared too much. At this point, their bodies did the talking much better. He pressed Hal against the slick tiles, kissed him deeply, ground against him. Hal clung to his neck, hands tangled in too long wet hair, surged against him, took his breath away. The water went cold but they were too heated up to notice, coming together in their joined hands.

Hal breathed an exhausted thank you in his ear. Dave picked him up and carried him out, wrapping the both in a big towel and roughly drying off. Then he picked him up again, and carried him to the bedroom.

“I can walk,” protested Hal weakly, not making any attempt to change his current predicament.

“I’m sure you can,” chuckled Dave, rolling him onto the bed.

Thankfully there was an emergency pack of cigarettes in the nightstand, along with the ashtray. He sat with his back against the headboard, Hal’s head tucked in his hip and long arm across his lap, and allowed himself to relax, just a little bit, watching the smoke curl in the grey light seeping through the blinds.

“You know what I keep thinking about?” asked Hal.

“I thought we agreed on not thinking.”

“As if we have that kind of luxury,” he snorted. “I keep thinking that if this whole mess was a repeat experiment, I was totally, completely supposed to die in Shadow Moses.”

Dave took a drag of his cigarette. Rolled a lock of Hal’s hair around his finger. “I’ve been thinking about that too.”

“I would have if you hadn’t been there at the right time. If you...”

“Hal.”

“Sorry. I know. No what ifs. But it’s going to keep me awake for a long time.”

“Yeah. Same.”

He crushed the cigarette into the ashtray and immediately lit another. “You know what I keep thinking about?”

“What?”

“How am I the only one who hasn’t gone all evil megalomaniac yet? My...Big Boss with his Outer Heaven, Liquid, now Solidus....is that shit in our genes? Am I gonna end up like that, too?”

“No,” said Hal, and sounded absolutely sure. “I know you won’t.”

“And then I think, what went differently?” He sighed, the answer clear without having to spell it out. “Maybe if they’d met their Otacon this fucking mess could have been avoided from the start. I don’t know.”

“No what ifs, Dave”

“Yeah. No what ifs.” He blew smoke towards the ceiling. “Please stop me if I start going off the rails.”

“Okay.”

“I’m serious.”

Hal rolled on his back to look up at him. His eyes were unfocused but serious. “If you go full Big Boss, I’ll be the one to stop you.”

Dave leaned to kiss his lips, the angle awkward. “Thank you.”

“Now stop chain-smoking and lie down. I can’t fall asleep if you keep thinking this loud.” He yawned. “And we both need rest. C’mon.”

He put away the ashtray and slid down to join Hal, spooning him and burying his face into the nape of his neck. They had fewer nightmares when they slept this way, but who knew after the past couple of days. They both had their share of new and exciting nightmare fuel, more family to stare reproachfully at them through the darkness of their waking hours.

Hal cupped his hands with his own and tucked them under his chin, lips brushing Dave’s knuckles.

“I’m glad I met you,” mumbled Dave, exhaustion dragging him under like an unwanted kitten in a sack full of stones.

“I’m glad I didn’t die,” whispered Hal, relaxing in his arms.

A lot of new plans needed to be made tomorrow. New safehouse, new missions, new objectives, new wounds to heal from.

But for now, they slept.


	5. Sever room, Swift and Co. Farm Equipment, Outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona, March 22nd 2010, 3:10pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You good?_
> 
>  
> 
> “Piece of cake. "

“All clear?”

_All clear. Just go ahead._

Snake carefully removed the cover of the air duct and slid out of it with barely any sound. The server room was empty and dim, whirring with fans.

“Where to?” he asked, squinting at the hundreds of blinking lights.

_There should be a terminal at the end of the room so you can access the whole thing._

Snake checked the wrong end of the room first, and then found the terminal. It was just a normal computer. Even he could handle that. He stuck the little thumb drive into one of the USB ports and sat down in the revolving chair and watched Otacon’s virus (he always got angry when he called it a virus, it was much more sophisticated than that thank you very much) do its magic. Windows and dialogs opened on the screen as Otacon accessed the computer remotely and started transferring data faster than Snake could follow.

He slipped a cigarette between his lips.

_Snake don’t smoke in a server room, there’s smoke detectors._

Snake pointedly clicked his lighter as loud as he could as he lit his cigarette. “You say this every single time, and not once we’ve triggered one.”

_Always time for a first._

“Hmm.”

As soon as he blew the smoke, it all went dark.

_Hey, what’s up? Did you pull out the stick?_

“No...the power went out.”

_Like the whole power? Are the servers still on?_

The room was completely quiet, almost eerily.

“Nothing is on. Can’t see an inch from my nose.” The tiny aura of light from his cigarette didn’t help. “Did you trigger a failsafe?”

_No!_

“Otacon.”

_I did not, really. I’d tell you. It was working fine and all of a sudden...._

“Maybe it’s a grid problem?”

Clicking sounds in the back of his head. The most comforting sound in this frankly oppressive darkness.

_Fuck. Of all the days to get an outage!_

Snake laughed.

_And you don’t have night vision goggles on you._

“I didn’t think I’d need them at three pm. It’s fine, I can make my way out by following the wall or something. Just, are you sure it’s all out?”

_What do you mean?_

“That if the grid went out at our place you wouldn’t even notice, you have like three emergency generators to keep your servers going.”

Otacon chuckled in a self-deprecating way. _These guys are bit players, not internationally wanted terrorists. Let me check the energy signature though. Just in case._

“Ain’t going anywhere. I’d prefer not have to come back if I can avoid it.”

_Fair. Oh, well, will you look at that._

“Is it time for my I told you so voice.”

_It might be. I’m getting a very weak signal. It’s probably a secondary battery that’s keeping a single server stack running._

“Told you so.”

 _Yeah_ yeah _you did,_ smartass _. Now go look for it. If anything it shouldn’t be hard to find the only light source in total darkness._

Snake snuffed his cigarette into his portable ashtray and got up.

_Don’t forget the thumb drive!_

“I wasn’t forgetting,” he grunted, having almost completely forgotten, patting blindly to find it.

Otacon was right, it wasn’t hard to find the server stack still operational, green and red lights blinking peacefully in the dark.

“So...what do I do with this, exactly?”

_You’ll have to do some hacking of your own._

He groaned. “Otacoooon.”

Laughter. I _’m kidding. Just pull out the stack and unhook it, it should be small enough to fit in your pack. I’ll deal with it when you bring it back._

“Won’t they notice?”

_They’re gonna notice anyway when all their metal gear parts trafficking is all over the internet tomorrow morning._

“Fair enough.”

_Don’t get zapped._

Snake rolled his eyes, feeling around the dark server tower for the latches. It wasn’t the first time they stole stuff from a server room, and they were all mostly the same. He was already slipping out the still warm stack when Otacon’s breath hitched in the back of his head.

“What’s up?”

_I’m getting movement._

“I hope they’re just coming to see what’s up with the power.”

_You should probably get out of there. Ah. Maybe not. Do you have the stack?_

“I do.”

_Close up and hide. They’re at the door._

He crouched, back pressed to the closed rack, gun already in his hand. The door swished open, the blinding beam of the flashlight cutting through the darkness.

“Man, why’s it so dark?” says a voice. Male, mid-twenties. The man with the flashlight by the way the light bounced.

“Boss says it’s probably a grid problem, but we should check. Just in case.” Older voice. Neither sounded military. Probably just glorified mall cops.

He let them walk past him, rounded up behind them.

 _Thwip, thwip._ Security taken care of. He took the flashlight and their access cards. Ziptied them quickly so they couldn’t call for help.

_You good?_

“Piece of cake. I’m going out the main door, map me a route?”

_On it._

Soothing key clicks as he stuffed the server stack into the collapsible backpack and slung it over his shoulders.

_All right, get out the door, turn left and down the corridor, there should be a fire exit. Normally opening it would trigger the fire alarm...._

“But with the power off it won’t be a problem.”

_Exactly. You need to go up two flights of stairs to get back to ground level. Radar doesn’t show any signs of life._

“Easy.”

He still walked quietly, mostly out of habit, partly because the last thing he needed was to trip on something and break his face on the floor.

“What now?” he asked, at the door leading out of the dark stairwell.

_Take a right, you should run into a service exit onto the dumpsters. Ah! Wait._

Snake hesitated, already halfway out of the fire exit.

_Somebody’s coming from that exit. Turn off your flashlight._

Snake clicked the door closed quietly, and shut the light. There was a dim glow coming from somewhere, and then it disappeared.

“Well fuck.” Clicking sounds. “Why won’t this bastard thing turn on?”

“Looks like their flashlight isn’t working.”

Sound of steps coming closer, a hand dragging against a wall.

Snake aimed at the direction of the steps, roughly as high as a person.

 _Two degrees to your right_ , whispered Otacon.

He corrected his aim.

Pulled the trigger.

_Thwip._

One, two, three...

He let out a sigh of relief when he heard the familiar sound of a body falling unconscious to the ground.

_Good shooting._

“Thanks. I have a good partner.”

After so long in complete darkness, the afternoon light was blinding and disconcerting. Snake squinted, wishing the sneaking suit had sunglasses.

_There’s a couple people milling about but you should be fine if you climb over the fence. I’m moving the car to that location, over and out._

“That was easy,” he said, hoisting himself up the chainlink fence. “Hup!”

_Snake, wait!_

But it was too late, Snake was already feeling the thick needle being shoved into the back of his neck with enough force to slam his head into the fence.

“Sniper. Of fucking course,” he croaked, his eyes rolling back into his head.

Then his fingers let go, and he tumbled back into the open dumpster, unconscious.


	6. Supply Room, Swift and Co. Farm Equipment, Outskirts of Phoenix, Arizona, March 22nd 2010, 6:02pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snake rolled onto his side, pushing his knees under him and crawling into a crouch to finally get on his feet. If they thought they could stop him by tying his hands back, they had never had an intensive training with Master Miller. He’d once made him walk through a forest with one arm and one leg tied up and he still made it out with full marks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today's prompt was "restraint" !

Snake woke shivering and for a split second he thought he was still at home, Otacon stealing the blankets as always.

Then the tranq hangover hit him like a truck with headache and nausea, and he briefly wished for a quick death.

_Oh thank god, you’re awake at last._

“Otacon,” he groaned. “Glad to hear your voice.”

_Glad to hear something other than you snoring. How do you feel?_

“Like I just got ran over by a train.”

_Status?_

He tried to move and found his arms stuck behind him.

“Looks like I’m zip-tied.” He tugged at the plastic biting into his wrists. “Pretty tight too.” He looked down. He was still wearing the suit but his gear was gone. “They took my stuff.”

_Yeah, thought so._

“They don’t seem to have interrupted codec communications, which is interesting.”

_As I said about three hours ago, these are bit players. They definitely don’t have the means to plan ahead for nanomachine suppression._

“Sure as hell had the means for a state of the art tranq sniper rifle,” he grunted. He hadn’t been hit this way since....Outer Heaven?

But that never happened, did it?

He shook his head. “So what do I do?”

_Well. You’ll be happy to know that snipers aside, we are dealing with idiots. They found the thumb drive a few hours ago._

Snake grinned. “Let me guess. They checked what was on it.”

He could hear the proud smile in Otacon’s voice. _Yep. So I got access to their whole system. And gave myself admin powers, of course._

“So can you get me out of here?”

A door clicked in the darkness.

“You’re the best, Otacon.”

_Now be careful. I can open and close doors and I’ve disabled alarms but I can’t stop people from running into you._

“Got it. Did they leave anybody guarding me?”

_Just one man. A little up the hallway. He should not notice you if you slip out now, he’s looking the other way._

Snake rolled onto his side, pushing his knees under him and crawling into a crouch to finally get on his feet. If they thought they could stop him by tying his hands back, they had never had an intensive training with Master Miller. He’d once made him walk through a forest with one arm and one leg tied up and he still made it out with full marks.

The guy playing with his phone with his back to the door of the storage closet they’d thrown him in never saw him, or his forehead, coming. He went down with a groan.

“Keep an eye for me as I get rid of this thing.”

_Got it. Coast is clear._

It wasn’t easy to find something to force the zip tie to break. If this guy had been military it wouldn’t have been a problem, but civilians don’t carry combat knives. He ended up hooking the restraints to the man’s belt buckle, and with a sharp tug, they snapped apart.

“Finally,” he grunted, rubbing his sore wrists.

_Are you free?_

“Yeah.” He took the man’s gun, checked the clip. Full. “And armed.”

_Great. Let’s try to avoid using it but it’s better than nothing._

“Any idea where my gear is?”

_Nope, sorry. But...._

“But?”

_You do need to get out of there quickly._

He rounded the corner, checking that nobody was coming. “I assume they know who I am?”

_You’re hard to miss. I’ve already deleted all information they could have against you but could do nothing to avoid the Patriots being alerted. One of their branches, at least._

Snake’s stomach dropped a little. “Great. How much time do I have before one more clone I didn’t know about comes to try to kill me?”

_No telling. I have no idea what they’ll even do._

Snake sighed. “At least you’re safe, right?”

_Well...._

“Otacon. Please tell me you’re talking to me from home.”

_We’re in the middle of nowhere, Snake. How the hell are you gonna get back without me? Take a Greyhound in your sneaking suit?_

Snake grumbled. He was right, of course he was, but the thought of Hal this close to the hot zone, maybe close enough for the sniper to catch a glimpse of him, was not something he was comfortable with at all.

_I have my gun. I’ll be fine._

“You’ve never shot a real human being with that gun.”

_But you made sure I’d be ready to do it if I needed to. Just get out of there. We can think about where we messed up when you’re safe._

Snake bit his lip to stop himself from saying that the Patriots capturing him was no big deal, but them getting their hands on Hal was the end of Philanthropy. Every time he said something like that, Hal always shut him up.

“Alright. You win. Just get me out of here.”

_The safest way is through the vents, but do you have anything to pry them open?_

“I could go back and pick it off the guard.”

_Don’t worry. I got you. There’s a dumbwaiter in a room a little ahead. It’ll take you up to one of the warehouses on ground level. The warehouse is empty._

“Great.”

The room was full of random mechanical parts. Some kind of workshop. Snake didn’t care. All he wanted was to be out and away from here.

“Bit of a tight fit,” he grunted as he climbed into the dumbwaiter.

_It can’t be worse than one of your cardboard boxes. Just keep all your limbs inside._

The ride up was tense, but thankfully Otacon was right, and the warehouse was deserted, lines of farm equipment lying in the dim light.

“I could have ridden a tractor to the safehouse,” he chuckled.

_Cute._

“So which way do I get out?”

_North side opens towards the road. I’m parked a little back behind some dumpsters. I’ll unlock the service door for you._

“Thanks.”

Just as he touched the handle, a loud noise startled him. For a fraction of a second he thought somebody was shooting him, but no - the explosion was coming from the inside of his head.

Otacon screamed. Something glass smashed. More gunshots.

He’d never ran like he ran out of the warehouse and towards the car.

Otacon was outside, gun in his trembling hands. He was covered in blood.

“Are you ok?” he grabbed him, touching his bloody face.

“I’m fine,” he croaked, pointing his gun at the car.

Awkwardly strewn across the hood, a very dead man with a sniper rifle. His balaklava’d head was almost entirely gone, like a smashed pumpkin. The windshield was also smashed into a spiderweb with a bullet hole at the center.

 _Thank god I taught him to shoot_ , he thought.

“I-I don’t know how he found me. Shot me through the windshield and then he dragged me out...” He looked down. “Fuck!”

There was a laptop in pieces on the ground. Otacon scooped it up as best as he could.

“Are you hurt?”

Otacon shook his head.

“Let’s go.”

“But...”

Snake took his hand. “We go. Now.”

Otacon nodded. They ran. When Otacon couldn’t run anymore, Snake hoisted him on his back and kept running, sharp pieces of broken laptop poking him in the neck. They didn’t stop until night had fallen and Snake couldn’t breathe anymore.

He rubbed the blood off Otacon’s face with spit. The greasy man at the desk of the seedy motel didn’t even glance at him even if he shook subtly and was soaked in sweat and had blood on his shirt.

They deadbolted the door. Closed the curtains. Held tight against the wall, waiting.

Nothing. No cars, no giant robots, no sound of spurs. Not even drunk people, just silence and the faint sound of traffic from the street.

“I think we’re safe.”

Otacon finally crumpled to his knees to have his panic attack in peace. Snake sat by him, rubbing circles into his back.

“We’re safe,” he said over and over until he calmed down. “We’re safe.”

They were never really safe, but as long as they were together, they could at least pretend. Couldn’t they?


	7. Campfire Motel, Interstate 10, Arizona, 11:23pm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hal...”
> 
> “I’m fine, Dave.” He pushed up his glasses. “It wasn’t the first man I’ve killed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> last day, last chapter, and prompt was dress up! Thank you for the week and thank you for reading along and cheering me on!

He soaked Hal’s bloodstained shirt in the sink, cold water biting his fingers while Hal was in the shower. He took one himself, then hung the shirt over the heater.

When he came out of the bathroom, Hal was sitting naked in the middle of the bed, trying to hotwire the broken laptop to turn on again.

“Hal. Let it be.”

“I am not wasting all the work we did today.” He punched the broken screen in frustration. “Help me break it open. I need to check if the hard drive is still in one piece.”

He snapped the laptop in half, cracking it open to get to its guts. It was incredibly easy.

“Oh thank god, it’s a bit banged up but it didn’t crack.”

“Hal. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grunted, trying to jury-rig the hard drive to his phone.

“Hal...”

“I’m _fine_ , Dave.” He pushed up his glasses. “It wasn’t the first man I’ve killed.”

Dave bit his lip to avoid mentioning his father didn’t count. Besides, he knew Hal kept a neurotically accurate tally of all the casualties of their missions. Secretly transferred funds to their families, made sure their kids never had to pay for school or healthcare.

“Does it always feel that good?” he asked finally, not looking up from his work.

“Yeah. Most of the time. It’s that “him or me” feeling.”

“Mm. I feel guilty about feeling like this.”

Dave looped his arms around Hal’s skinny shoulders. “Yeah. That happens too.”

Hal dropped his phone and hard drive to cling to him, mouth hot on Dave’s neck, long legs straddling his sides. They didn’t really need to talk. He rode him roughly, biting his shoulder enough to break skin, Dave’s hands tight enough on his hips to leave bruises. They crashed into a fitful sleep right after coming, still joined and clinging to each other like castaways to flotsam.

When he woke up, Hal was gone. There was a piece of paper on the pillow, which just

 _be right back - O._ on it.

on it.

Dave curled up and worried until he was in fact back, two large shopping bags in his hands.

“You shouldn’t leave without me,” he snapped.

“I’m the only one with civilian clothes. I would have had to leave without you anyway.” He dropped the bags on the bed. “And you’re welcome.”

“Sorry. I just....”

“I know you worry, but I am not helpless, Dave.”

He nodded. He was right, he was always right, but it was hard to stop wanting to protect him. He wasn’t much good at anything else.

“So what did you get?”

“Food. Clothes. Hair dye. Razors. And coffee.”

Dave’s stomach growled loudly. Food sounded great right about now.

They drank store brand lukewarm coffee and devoured bagels as big as their heads as they planned their escape route out of Arizona. Dave shaved off his beard aside from his moustache while Hal dyed his hair black. His own hair was bleached dirt blonde next.

“That moustache is terrible, you look like Magnum, P.I.” giggled Hal, and Dave decided he liked it if he made him smile again. He planned his outfit accordingly. Khaki shorts, loud red half sleeve shirt with big blue flowers. He tied the whole look together with a baseball hat, sandals with socks, and a fanny pack with Otacon’s precious hard drive in it.

“God, you look so perfect I’m almost embarrassed to be seen in public with you.”

Dave grinned, and Hal swallowed.

He needed one extra trip to the Walgreens down the street for eyeliner, black nail polish, and a couple accessories to make his plan work. Turned out Hal made a pretty decent goth with black lining his pretty eyes and a black fringe hanging over his glasses. He had that pale, scrawny physique that worked well with all black.

“I look like your surly kid,” he laughed as they checked each other in the old mirror.

“Do you wanna go for that, or kinda creepy gay couple?”

Hal looped his arms around Snake’s neck with a jingle of cheap bracelets. “Daddy, will you buy me an ice cream?” he purred.

Dave planted his hand on Hal’s ass. “Of course, baby.”

“Nobody is gonna be able to keep their eyes on us for more than a second,” he giggled in his ear.

“Which is exactly what we need.”

The disguise worked perfectly. The used car salesman was so embarrassed by Hal’s simpering and their PDAs he barely glanced at their fake IDs. Once they were back on the road, they could breathe a lot easier. Hal grabbed a cheap laptop from a mall while Dave bought groceries and a couple of changes of clothes. Their safehouse in Tucson was being cleared out by their “friends”, their stuff put into storage for when it was safe to pick it up. All they had to do was lie low for a while.

“So...Vegas?” asked Dave as they drove towards the state border.

Hal put booted feet on the dashboard, laptop on his legs. Dave kind of actually liked this look on him. “Sure, why not? We’ll blend in just fine there while we find a new safehouse.”

“There has to be an easier way,” he mused, leaning back into the seat and relaxing into the drive.

“Unless we find some kind of remote base in the middle of the ocean or something, I think we’re stuck bouncing around,” muttered Hal, deep into customising the laptop to run to his speeds. “I don’t mind. I’ve spent most of my life in college dorms.”

“And my cabin in Alaska was the only real house I ever had, so....” he shrugged. “Guess the terrorist lifestyle isn’t suited for settling down.”

“Well they do say home’s where the heart is,” said Hal, not taking his eyes from the rapidly scrolling lines of code but reaching across the seats to grip Dave’s free hand. “As long as I’m with you, I don’t need to settle down.”

Dave twined his fingers with him and gave his hand a squeeze. “Same,” he muttered lamely.

Really, by that rule, they’d settled down years ago, and that was a somewhat relieving thought.

It was nice to have a place he belonged to, even if it was just the space in Hal’s arms as their surrounded changed constantly.

Hands still squeezed together, they drove off to yet another step of their weird life.


End file.
